The night was moonless and warm. An impalpable haze dimmed the
star-glow, only the diffused illumination of the open sea enabled
the passengers of the Fair Play to identify that blacker darkness
on the horizon ahead of them as land. The ship herself was no more
than a formless blot stealing through the gloom, and save for the
phosphorescence at bow and stern no light betrayed her presence,
not even so much as the flare of a match or the coal from a cigar
or cigarette. Orders of the strictest had been issued and the
expedicionarios, gathered along the rails, were not inclined to
disregard them, for only two nights before the Fair Play, in spite
of every precaution, had shoved her nose fairly into a hornets'
nest and had managed to escape only by virtue of the darkness and
the speed of her engines.

She had approached within a mile or two of the pre-arranged
landing-place when over the mangroves had flared the blinding
white light of a Spanish patrol-boat; like a thief surprised at
his work the tramp had turned tail and fled, never pausing until
she lay safe among the Bahama Banks.

Now she was feeling her way back, some distance to the westward.
Major Ramos was on the bridge with the captain. Two men were
taking soundings in a blind search for that steep wall which forms
the side of the old Bahama Channel. When the lead finally gave
them warning, the Fair Play lost her headway and came to a stop,
rolling lazily; in the silence that ensued Leslie Branch's
recurrent cough barked loudly.

"They're afraid to go closer, on account of the reef," O'Reilly
explained to his companions.

"That must be it that I hear," Norine ventured. "Or maybe it's
just the roaring in my ears."

"Probably the latter," said Branch. "I'm scared stiff. I don't
like reefs. Are there any sharks in these waters?"

Major Ramos spoke in a low tone from the darkness above, calling
for a volunteer boat's crew to reconnoiter and to look for an
opening through the reef. Before the words were out of his mouth
O'Reilly had offered himself.

Ten minutes later he found himself at the steering-oar of one of
the ship's life-boats, heading shoreward. A hundred yards, and the
Fair Play was lost to view; but, keeping his face set toward that
inky horizon, O'Reilly guided his boat perhaps a half-mile nearer
before ordering his crew to cease rowing. Now through the
stillness came a low, slow, pulsating whisper, the voice of the
barrier reef.

The trade-winds had died with the sun, and only the gentlest
ground-swell was running; nevertheless, when the boat drew farther
in the sound increased alarmingly, and soon a white breaker streak
showed dimly where the coral teeth of the reef bit through.

There was a long night's work ahead; time pressed, and so O'Reilly
altered his course and cruised along outside the white water,
urging his crew to lustier strokes. It was haphazard work, this
search for an opening, and every hour of delay increased the
danger of discovery.

A mile--two miles--it seemed like ten to the taut oars-men, and
then a black hiatus of still water showed in the phosphorescent
foam. O'Reilly explored it briefly; then he turned back toward the
ship. When he had gone as far as he dared, he lit a lantern and,
shielding its rays from the shore with, his coat, flashed it
seaward. After a short interval a dim red eye winked once out of
the blackness. O'Reilly steered for it.

Soon he and his crew were aboard and the ship was groping her way
toward the break in the reef. Meanwhile, her deck became a scene
of feverish activity; out from her hold came cases of ammunition
and medical supplies; the field-piece on the bow was hurriedly
dismounted; the small boats, of which there were an extra number,
were swung out, with the result that when the Fair Play had
manoeuvered as close as she dared everything was in readiness.

Many of these expedicionarios were professional men, clerks,
cigar-makers, and the like; few of them had ever done hard manual
labor; yet they fell to their tasks willingly enough. While they
worked a close watch with night glasses was maintained from the
bridge.

O'Reilly took the first load through the reef, and discharged it
upon a sandy beach. No one seemed to know positively whether this
was the mainland or some key; and there was no time for
exploration; in either event, there was no choice of action. Every
man tumbled overboard and waded ashore with a packing-case; he
dropped this in the sand above high-tide mark, and then ran back
for another. It was swift, hot work. From the darkness on each
side came the sounds of other boat crews similarly engaged.

Johnnie was back alongside the ship and ready for a second cargo
before the last tender had set out upon its first trip, and then
for several hours this slavish activity continued. Some crews lost
themselves in the gloom, fetched up on the reef, and were forced
to dump their freight into the foam, trusting to salvage it when
daylight came. Every one was wet to the skin; bodies steamed in
the heat; men who had pulled at oars until their hands were raw
and bleeding cursed and groaned at their own fatigue. But there
was little shirking; those whose strength completely failed them
dropped in the sand and rested until they could resume their
labors.

Daylight was coming when the last boat cast off and the Fair Play,
with a hoarse triumphant blast of her whistle, faded into the
north, her part in the expedition at an end.

O'Reilly bore Norine Evans ashore in his arms, and when he placed
her feet upon Cuban soil she hugged him, crying:

"We fooled them, Johnnie! But if it hadn't been for you we'd have
turned back. The captain was afraid of the reef."

"I don't mind telling you I was afraid, too," he sighed, wearily.
"Now then, about all we have to fear are Spanish coast-guards."

Dawn showed the voyagers that they were indeed fortunate, for they
were upon the mainland of Cuba, and as far as they could see, both
east and west, the reef was unbroken. There was still some
uncertainty as to their precise position, for the jungle at their
backs shut off their view of the interior; but that gave them
little concern. Men were lolling about, exhausted, but Major Ramos
allowed them no time for rest; he roused them, and kept them on
the go until the priceless supplies had been collected within the
shelter of the brush. Then he broke open certain packages, and
distributed arms among his followers.

Even while this was going on there came an alarm; over the low
promontory that cut off the eastern coastline a streamer of smoke
was seen. There was a scurry for cover; the little band lay low
and watched while a Spanish cruiser stole past not more than a
mile outside the line of froth.

The three Americans, who were munching a tasteless breakfast of
pilot-bread, were joined by Major Ramos. He was no longer the
immaculate personage he had been: he was barefooted; his clothes
were torn; his trousers were rolled up to the knee and whitened by
sea-water, while the revolver at his hip and the bandolier of
cartridges over his shoulder lent him an incongruously ferocious
appearance. Ever since Norine had so rudely shattered his romantic
fancies the major had treated both her and O'Reilly with a stiff
and distant formality. He began now by saying:

"I am despatching a message to General Gomez's headquarters,
asking him to send a pack-train and an escort for these supplies.
There is danger here; perhaps you would like to go on with the
couriers."

O'Reilly accepted eagerly; then thinking of the girl, he said,
doubtfully:

"Nonsense! I'm equal to anything," Norine declared. And indeed she
looked capable enough as she stood there in her short walking-suit
and stout boots.

Branch alone declined the invitation, vowing that he was too weak
to budge. If there was the faintest prospect of riding to the
interior he infinitely preferred to await the opportunity, he
said, even at the risk of an attack by Spanish soldiers in the
mean time.

It took O'Reilly but a short time to collect the few articles
necessary for the trip; indeed, his bundle was so small that
Norine was dismayed.

"Can't I take any clothes?" she inquired in a panic. "I can't live
without a change."

"It is something you'll have to learn," he told her. "An
Insurrecto with two shirts is wealthy. Some of them haven't any."

Miss Evans pondered this prospect; then she laughed. "It must feel
funny," she said.

There were three other members of the traveling-party, men who
knew something of the country round about; they were good
fighters, doubtless, but in spite of their shiny new weapons they
resembled soldiers even less than did their major. All were
dressed as they had been when they left New York; one even wore a
derby hat and pointed patent-leather shoes. Nevertheless, Norine
Evans thought the little cavalcade presented quite a martial
appearance as it filed away into the jungle.

The first few miles were trying, for the coast was swampy and
thickly grown up to underbrush; but in time the jungle gave place
to higher timber and to open savannas deep in guinea-grass. Soon
after noon the travelers came to a farm, the owner of which was
known to one of the guides, and here a stop was made in order to
secure horses and food.

It was a charming little rancho. The palm-thatched house was set
in a grove of mamey and mango trees, all heavily burdened with
fruit; there was a vianda-patch, and, wonder of wonders, there
were a half-dozen cows dozing in the shade. Spying these animals,
Norine promptly demanded a glass of milk, and O'Reilly translated
her request to the farmer.

The man was obliging until he learned that the American lady
purposed drinking the milk fresh and warm; then he refused
positively. Fresh milk was full of fever, he explained: it was
alive with germs. He would bring her, instead, some which had been
boiled and salted in the usual Cuban manner. This he did, but
after one bitter mouthful Norine insisted upon her original
request. With a dubious shake of his head and a further warning
the farmer directed his son to oblige the pretty lady by milking
one of the cows; he made it plain, however, that he disclaimed all
responsibility for the result.

Johnnie, who was badly fagged from the previous night's work,
found a shady spot and stretched himself out for a nap. He
inquired idly if there were any Spaniards in the vicinity, and
learned that there were, but that they seldom came this way.

"We'd never see them here, if it were not for these sin
verguenzas--may a bad lightning split them!--who take money to
show them the bridle-paths," the country-man explained. "I'd like
to guide them once. I'd lead them into a swamp and leave them to
sink in the mud, then I'd go back and cut off their heads. Ha!
That would be a satisfaction, now, wouldn't it?"

O'Reilly agreed sleepily that it would doubtless be a very great
satisfaction indeed.

"I'm as good a patriot as God ever made," the fellow ran on. "You
can see that, eh? But what do you think? I have a brother, a very
blood brother, who would sell himself for a peseta. He passed here
the other day at the head of a whole Spanish guerrillero." The
speaker bared his teeth and spat viciously. "Christ! How I would
like to cut his throat!"

The shade was grateful. O'Reilly dozed. He was awakened by being
roughly shaken, and he found the man with the derby hat bending
over him. The fellow was excited; his eyes were ringed with white;
his expression bespoke the liveliest alarm. Loud voices came from
the rear of the bohio.

"What's the matter? Spaniards?" Johnnie was on his feet in an
instant.

"No, no! Your senorita!" the man gasped, "For the love of God come
quickly." He set off at a run, and Johnnie followed, a prey to
sudden sick misgivings.

Around the house they dashed, and into a group the center of which
was Norine herself, a gourdful of milk in one hand, a partially
devoured mango in the other. At first glance there seemed to be
nothing amiss; but the owner of the farm was dancing; he was
trying to seize first the mango, then the drinking-vessel. His
wife was wringing her hands and crying, shrilly:

Norine turned a puzzled face to him, meanwhile warding off the
farmer's attack. "I can't quite make out," she said. "They all
talk at once. Please ask them what I've done." Mechanically she
raised the ripe mango to her lips, whereupon the ranchero, with a
yell, leaped upon her and violently wrenched it out of her
fingers.

It proved now that one of the three members of the landing-party
possessed an unsuspected knowledge of English, which modesty alone
had prevented him from revealing. Under the stress of his emotion
he broke out:

This confession, or a garbled translation of it, was enough for
the others; it confirmed their worst fears. The farmer volunteered
to ride for the nearest priest, but hesitated, declaring it a
waste of time, inasmuch as the lady would be dead in half an hour.
His wife ran to the house for her crucifix and rosary, which
latter she insisted upon hanging around Norine's neck. After that
she directed the men to carry the sufferer indoors, her intention
being to make her guest's last moments as comfortable as possible.
When Norine refused to be carried she was warned that the least
exertion would but hasten the end, which was, alas! all too near.

O'Reilly was impressed, in spite of himself, by this weight of
conviction, especially when the Cubans ridiculed his suggestion
that the combination of milk and mango might not prove altogether
fatal to an American. Nothing, they assured him, could possibly be
deadlier than this abominable mixture.

The victim herself, however, remained skeptical; she alone treated
the matter lightly, and although she did finally consent to lie
down, it was merely to please the others and because she was
tired.

"They have set their minds on seeing me expire, and they're such
nice people I'm almost ashamed to disappoint them," she confided
to O'Reilly. "But really I'm too hungry to die. Now don't forget
to call me when dinner is ready."

The meal was slow in coming, for not only were the cooking
arrangements primitive, but the apprehensive housewife could not
long remain away from the sick-room. She made frequent visits
thereto, and after each she reported in a whisper the condition of
the patient. The lady looked very white. ... Her breathing was
becoming slower. ... She was unconscious. ... All would soon be
over. ... It was better to let her pass painlessly to paradise
than to torture her with useless remedies. Realizing that the
poison had at last begun to work, the men tip-toed to the door and
peered in compassionately, whereupon the sufferer roused herself
sufficiently to call them "a lot of rubber-necks" and bid them
begone.

"Her mind wanders," explained the man of the house; and then to
cheer O'Reilly he added, "She is young and strong; she may linger
until evening."

The meal was set at last, however; the men were stealthily
attacking it. Suddenly the sick woman swept out from her retreat
and sat down among them.

Then, as she ignored them and helped herself liberally to the
food, their own appetites vanished and they pushed themselves away
from the table.

With a twinkle in his eye O'Reilly said, gravely, "Dying people
have strange fancies. Pray don't thwart her."

Indifference so callous on the part of a lover shocked the Cubans.
They rebuked O'Reilly silently; it was plain that they considered
Americans a barbarously cold-blooded race. Meanwhile they
apprehensively watched Norine's every mouthful.

When, after a time, no ill effects having appeared, she suggested
departing, they whispered together. They agreed at last that it
was perhaps the course of wisdom to humor her. She was the guest
of their Government; it would not do to displease her. Inasmuch as
her end was inevitable, it could matter little whether she died
here or elsewhere. Accordingly they saddled their borrowed horses
and set out.

All that afternoon Norine was an object of the tenderest
solicitude on the part of her three Cuban guides. They momentarily
expected to see her stricken. Then when she gave no sign of
distress they marveled, and expressed great admiration at her
fortitude in enduring pain.

That night was spent at another farm-house. When on the next
morning Norine not only was seen to be alive and well, but
insisted upon making her breakfast of mangoes and milk, the fellow
in the derby hat flung his hands on high and told O'Reilly:

"It is no less than a miracle, but now she courts the wrath of
God, senor! As for me, I shall never again associate with
eccentric persons who delight to fly in the face of Providence. It
is my opinion that all Americans are crazy."

The party had penetrated to the foot-hills of the Sierra de
Cubitas now, and as they ascended, the scenery changed. Rarely is
the Cuban landscape anything but pleasing. For the most part green
pastures sown with stately palm-trees and laid out as if for a
picnic alternate with low rolling hills, and in but few places are
the altitudes at all impressive. It is a smiling island. It has
been said, too, that everything in it is friendly to man: the
people are amiable, warm-hearted; the very animals and insects are
harmless. Cuban cattle are shy, but trusting; Cuban horses are
patient and affectionate; the serpents have no poison, and
although the spiders and the scorpions grow large and forbidding,
their sting is ineffective. But here in the Cubitas range all was
different. The land was stern and forbidding: canons deep and damp
raised dripping walls to the sky; bridle-paths skirted ledges that
were bold and fearsome, or lost themselves in gloomy jungles as
noisome as Spanish dungeons. Hidden away in these fastnesses, the
rebel Government had established its capital. Here, safe from
surprise, the soldiers of Gomez and Maceo and Garcia rested
between attacks, nursing their wounded and recruiting their
strength for further sallies.

It was a strange seat of government--no nation ever had a
stranger--for the state buildings were huts of bark and leaves,
the army was uniformed in rags. Cook-fires smoldered in the open
glades; cavalry horses grazed in the grassy streets, and wood-
smoke drifted over them.

The second evening brought O'Reilly and Miss Evans safely through,
and at news of the expedition's success a pack-train was made
ready to go to its assistance. Norine's letter from the New York
Junta was read, and the young woman was warmly welcomed. One of
the better huts was vacated for her use, and the officers of the
provisional Government called to pay their respects.